


frying pans

by Togaki



Series: one life, one home [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Disneyworld (Chiba), Flashbacks, I know nothing about Chiba's Disneyworld, M/M, Outsider POV kinda, Post-Timeskip, Protective Younger Sister, date with the sis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Togaki/pseuds/Togaki
Summary: “Rin-nii is allergic to shellfish, did you know that?”Osamu pauses, turns his neck imperceptibly, and blinks. “No, uh, I didn’t.”A twirl of a skirt. A cock of the knee. It’s Sunday. There’s no school for high schoolers.“Well, that’s a lie. He’s allergic to shrimp, but of course you wouldn’t know that, because you spent the last five years running away like a little pansy,” she says, skipping along the stone trail of Chiba’s Disneyworld like she’s bossy Belle from Beauty and the Beast.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: one life, one home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098944
Comments: 20
Kudos: 177
Collections: SunaOsa





	frying pans

**Author's Note:**

> I liked the idea of Suna's sassy sister.

“Rin-nii is allergic to shellfish, did you know that?” 

Osamu pauses, turns his neck imperceptibly, and blinks. “No, uh, I didn’t.” 

A twirl of a skirt. A cock of the knee. It’s Sunday. There’s no school for high schoolers. 

“Well, that’s a lie. He’s allergic to shrimp, but of course you wouldn’t know that, because you spent the last five years running away like a little pansy,” she says, skipping along the stone trail of Chiba’s Disneyworld like she’s bossy Belle from  _ Beauty and the Beast _ . “Come on, Mukkun, I want to ride the teapots.” 

It takes him only a second to register that she’s designated a nickname for him—a  _ terrible _ nickname—before his legs catch up to her words. She waves him down from the line, her little mouse ears threatening to slip off. 

It’s a twenty minute wait, and it’s crowded enough that he keeps bumping shoulders with the girl, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. Rather, she  _ revels _ in it. 

“Rin-nii hates Disneyworld. He hates standing in line. The rides aren’t that fun either. The food’s expensive, and the tickets aren’t cheap. He calls it capitalism at its grandest.” 

She sways into him, jostled by the people behind them, and he catches her before she falls. She doesn’t thank him. 

Osamu coughs, awkward. “Then why did he want to come?”

The look she gives him is freezing. “ _ Why do you think _ ?”

Osamu shrinks. 

Five years ago, Suna Ririchiyo had been an adorable little munchkin who loved glomping onto Osamu’s legs whenever he showed up with Suna in Aichi. She was ten and impressionable, and Osamu was nothing if not a good impression. He bought her ice cream mochi and sweet flavored jellies, and she practically crawled into his lap, demanding that he call her “Riri-chan” like all of her closest friends do. 

Now, it’s a miracle if she even shoots a smile in his direction. 

After they get off the hell-scraping ride, he stumbles out the exit. He spends a full minute folded over some bushes, too sick to find one of the many abundant restrooms in the theme park. 

Riri likes spinning, and she likes spinning  _ hard. _

She squats down next to him, eyes bored and uncaring. She’s the mother of condescension. 

“You’re weak, Mukkun. Rin-nii can go at least two more rounds before he throws up.”

He pales at the thought.

“Don’t worry though. I won’t make you do that,” she says, a tad more chipper. Though that could have any range of meanings—she could be happy because she has something else planned, and she could be happy because that  _ something else _ involves further abuse of Osamu. 

“Why?” escapes Osamu’s mouth before he can think to stop. 

She hums, looking derisively at him. Like he’s the dog shit on the bottom of her shoe that she then smears on the sidewalk. It makes him want to cry. 

“If you have the strength to ask that, then you have the strength to get up and stand in line for the Seven Dwarfs mine trail. Let’s go.” 

\--

Suna has been in love with Osamu since high school. They dated for two years before they broke up. 

At the time, it was the thing that made most sense to Osamu. 

There were no out players in the League, Suna wasn’t about to be the first one, and Osamu was terrified of being the reason he might have to give it all up. 

“Then I won’t,” Suna had told him, insistent. “I won’t go pro.” 

Osamu had pushed him out of the doorway before he could hear another word, because in his eyes, a pro career for Suna was more important than anything they had with each other. He swallowed all the hurt and desperation, clung to it, and then buried it deeply. 

They broke up, but it wasn’t a  _ clean _ breakup. Because even after Suna kept wanting to try, Osamu couldn’t—wouldn’t. He also didn’t have the strength to keep picking up Suna’s pleading phone calls, so he stopped. 

He moved to Sendai, he got a job, he went to school—he never heard another word from Suna, because he had thrown out everything. 

All of this, he did, while he watched Suna shine on screen. 

\--

“Why do you think Peter Pan wanted to remain young forever?” Riri asks as she plucks a cloud of cotton candy and pops it into her mouth. 

It’s a trick question. Osamu knows it’s a trick question. 

All day, she’s been setting him up to fail, and this is no different. She’s probing him like a scientist, except in this case, she doesn’t want results—she wants to see it blow up in his face. 

“Why?” Osamu parries. It’s a cop-out, but at least he won’t feel nearly as stupid this way. 

“Because he’s a selfish little boy that thinks everything can be waived away with a little humor and a little magic. He's an escapist,” she says, shrugging. 

She offers some of her cotton candy to Osamu, and while he would love nothing more than to have some sugar in him after having the life drained out of him from those rides, he declines. 

“But,” she continues, picking at the cloud of pink and blue until it shrivels like raisins between her fingertips, “he forgets that he hurts others, too. But as a kid, nobody ever really holds you accountable, you know?” 

“I’m guessing ya didn’t like the movie then?” Osamu asks. 

She licks her fingers. “Never watched it. I read the book, though. Rin-nii didn’t want to touch either of them. Thought they were too childish.” 

“I liked the movie,” Osamu says. 

Riri shoots him a withering look, as if to say  _ of course you did _ . 

He’s starting to think he’s out of his league with this one. Forget what she was like when she was younger, teenage-Riri is a nightmare. And he’s stuck with her for at least eight more hours until the park closes. 

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Well, are there any Disney movies ya  _ did _ like?” 

Or maybe she hasn’t watched any. Maybe she came to Disneyworld specifically to drag it through the mud. Using Osamu’s money to buy mouse ears and cotton candy, she’s later going to set them on fire on tape. She’s Suna’s sister, so why wouldn’t she? 

But instead, her eyes grow soft, and her expression melts a little of all its hard lines and narrowed fixtures. 

It’s remarkable how much she reminds him of Suna. 

“I liked  _ Tangled _ .” 

“Why?” 

“Because he’s scared to fall in love, yet he does anyway. And then he fights, because fighting for the person he loves was never a question in the first place,” she says wistfully. There’s magic in her eyes, a little twinkle of girlish inspiration, but as soon as it comes it disappears. She snorts. She picks up her cotton candy, or what’s left of it, and heads to the trash. “Well, not like stories are ever real. It’d be nice, though.” 

Osamu stares at her and wonders for a minute about what-ifs. There’s a lot he’d like to say, a lot he’d like to point out—the insurmountable reality, the foolish fantasies—but it all gets caught on his tongue. 

So instead, he says, “Yeah, it would be.” 

\--

Five years of radio silence does a lot to someone. It makes you wonder if you even mattered at all. And though Osamu was the one to put it in place, he sometimes wished Suna would have barged in anyway. 

Like during the times when he was stressed out scrambling to turn in a financial report for class during his culinary school years, he wanted the consoling pats on his back reassuring him. Or when he was painstakingly researching recipes for his restaurant’s rice balls, he wanted somebody to comfort him, to tell him he was doing well. And when he strolled up to the coffee shop in the morning, barely awake and barely standing, and he would order a second cup to-go out of habit, he would turn around and he would feel Suna’s ghost, but there was no Suna  _ there _ . 

And he’d miss him. A lot. 

He wasn’t hard to find. Ask his mom, ask Atsumu, ask his next-door neighbor—they’d all know where he was. 

But the message was clear—had been clear from the moment Osamu shoved Suna out of his life. Suna wasn’t coming. 

It took five years for them to find each other again. And it took five years for Osamu to realize love had surpassed fear long ago. 

\--

“I, uh, don’t know about this,” Osamu says nervously. His eyes scan all 400 feet of the tall ride before he decides he’d rather go another five rounds on the teacups with Riri. 

Riri has his hand in hers, pulling him unwillingly as she tries to get him to stand in line. “I thought you were supposed to like rides. You know, Rin-nii was so sure you’d love this place, but I’m starting to think he doesn’t really know you at all.”

“He does,” Osamu quickly defends. Of course Suna knows him. They’ve known each for almost a decade now. Suna probably knows Osamu better than Osamu knows himself sometimes. Or, at least that’s what he likes to think. “I just— The rides today have been a little, um,  _ extreme _ .” 

Riri lets go of his hand. He cradles it like he’s been burned. 

She stares at him, unimpressed. “Are you sure about that? We’ve been on ten rides today, and I think I’ve caught you looking green after every single one of them.” 

_ It’s not because of the rides _ , he wants to tell her. It also has to do with the indigestible truths she’s been dishing out today. Truths he’d much rather avert his eyes from. 

But it’s not like he can tell  _ her _ that. She’ll use it to cut him. Maybe literally. 

He improvises. “Upset stomach?”

“You’re not Rin-nii. I know you can eat just about anything,” she says, sighing. She gives up on the 400-foot plunge of doom, and Osamu sweats with relief. “Well, what  _ do _ you want to do then? This day was originally supposed to be for you.” 

How is he supposed to know? He can count the number of times he’s been to an amusement park on two fingers, and neither of them were as luxurious and grand as this one. He’s not even sure why Suna picked this place. Once or twice, he might’ve mentioned he wanted to come here a long time ago, but that had been back in high school. And it was only ever said offhandedly in the same vein as, “Oh, it’d be fun to go to the moon, don’t ya think?”

He barely knows Mickey Mouse. Hell, he can’t even figure out who Mushu is supposed to be, and Riri looks at him like he’s dirt when he tells her as much. 

The sun is starting to set as Osamu’s trying to make up his mind between Tiana’s Famous Beignets or Olaf’s Frozen Custard. 

Riri snips, exasperated with Osamu. “Forget it. You’re too indecisive. Were you like this with Rin-nii in high school, too?” 

Why does everything come back to Suna for her? 

He gets it. She doesn’t like him. Not after five years of growing up and growing out in a world that’s more often harsh than it is nice. 

But he’s trying. He’s  _ trying _ his best here. He just wishes she could be a little kinder about it. 

“We’ll get beignets, but  _ after _ we go on the ferris wheel. The fireworks are starting soon, and I don’t want to watch them from the air,” she says, as she tows him along. A girl half his size and half his weight, pulling him like he’s some put-out puppy. 

Quietly, oh-so-quietly, he whispers, “I wasn’t.” Indecisive, that is. 

Maybe it was a good thing, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, it cinched whatever happened five years ago, but it’s also the reason why they are where they are today. 

If Riri hears him, hears that fragility behind a voice sharpened and roughened over the years, she doesn’t let him know. 

\--

It was strange, at first. Dating, that is. Dating after a five-year drought. Dating after never fully resolving things. Dating Suna again. He always wondered why Suna never got more mad at him. 

Well, he did slap Osamu in the face once, but that was well deserved. And it was also immediately followed up with tender kisses and ointment for his cheek. He couldn’t complain. 

He wishes Suna would complain more though. Yell at him, maybe hit him one more time to wake Osamu up out of whatever funk’s got him wrapped these days. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, Suna just holds him, kisses him, and makes love to him like he’s cradling something precious. 

It makes him sick. It makes him feel guilty. Because at the crux of it all, nothing had changed. The V. League had nobody out, Suna wasn’t out, and  _ Osamu _ certainly wasn’t out—at least to himself. 

Because he was having trouble outting himself to the fact that he had been an idiot. A complete, ginormous, Disney-animal-sidekick-level, stupid idiot. 

What had changed was that Osamu loved Suna more than he was scared  _ for _ Suna, and even though the guilt ate him up—the fact that he could be putting  _ everything _ at risk for his boyfriend—Suna never let it consume him. 

He’s an idiot. 

An idiot who another, bigger, and far more patient idiot waited for. 

\--

For the first time all day, Riri has no words to say. Or maybe she’s determined that Osamu is a lost cause and isn’t worth burning when he hasn’t even got a bit of kindling left. He burned himself out a long time ago overthinking things. 

They’re sitting across from each other in the ferris wheel. The sky’s darkened beneath a brilliant orange glow—a quickly fading sunset.

Osamu has his hands in his lap, while she’s looking disdainfully outside, chin propped up on her palm. 

When he really thinks about it, Riri has every right to be upset with him. The only times he ever met her were when Suna invited him to his home in Aichi biannually, so he only ever met Riri a handful of times when she was younger. And half of the time, he was bribing her with snacks to like him. 

It can’t be helped if she sees him as the evil stepmother—er, stepbrother, who’s come to do harm to her beloved brother. 

Osamu glances carefully at her. “Are you okay?”

Slowly, as if Hades had opened up a hole in the ground, she turns to glower at him. “I’m fine. You, on the hand, don’t look too good, Mukkun. Care to share?” 

He clamps his mouth. 

_ Too soon _ . Too soon. 

It makes sense the spittle would run through the Suna bloodline. Maybe it was more powerful along the maternal line. 

Perhaps he’s just going about this all wrong. He’s been trying so hard to wrap his mind around Riri and what she thinks of him, but he hasn’t considered the idea of not trying so hard. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference even if he tried to butter his way in; or maybe it would, but the fact is she hates him right now. And acting like that’s not the case isn’t helping either of them. 

Riri’s voice is a murmur in the humming darkness. “I saw it, you know. Rin-nii. People look down on you for being young, but it’s hard not to notice. Even when you’re young.” 

Osamu’s heart sinks a little, like a tiny ship. “What do ya mean?”

She sits up, staring outside again. She refuses to meet Osamu’s eyes. “Rin-nii loves you. A lot. I know you like playing the victim here just because he doesn’t show it outwardly, but he was a  _ mess _ when you left him. Then you dumped him on us, and here you are, five years later, pretending like  _ you’re _ the only one that got hurt.” 

“That’s not it,” Osamu says softly. He’s not trying to play the victim; he’s just trying to make up for things. If it means waiting for Suna to wake up and get mad at him and then  _ take _ it, then he will. He’s ready. He deserves to be hurt.

“There you go again,” Riri says. “You’ve got that look in your eyes like you’re prepared to be thrown out at any minute.” 

“That’s not—”

“That’s exactly what you plan,” Riri says. “Don’t. Just  _ don’t _ , okay? Don’t look like that in front of Rin-nii, because that makes it harder for all of us, not just you.” 

“I’m  _ not _ leaving Suna. I wouldn’t do that again.” 

“You sure?” she challenges him. The ride grinds to a halt. They’re on the ground. “Because you look like you’re ready to bolt.” 

Then she’s the one out the doors first, sprinting. 

\--

Suna bought the tickets a few weeks ago, unbeknownst to Osamu. He called it a present for their “eleventh week anniversary,” and Osamu called him a dummy because “Why the hell couldn’t ya wait til next week and call it a three-month anniversary?”

But Suna just laughed and wrapped his arms around Osamu’s waist, mouth nibbling his ear as he squeezed him close. 

“Okay, so maybe I jumped the gun there, but tell me you’re happy,” Suna says, smiling. 

Osamu pulled him in for a long kiss. “I’m miserable, ya dummy. When are we going?”

But on the day they were supposed to go, Suna got a high fever of 102.1 Fahrenheit. 

The tickets were one-day-only, and he’d scheduled it around Osamu’s work, so today was really the only day to go. 

Suna wasn’t disheartened though. Well, maybe a little since it meant he couldn’t kiss Osamu without passing on his cold. But he wasn’t devastated. With a starry look in his eye, he just said, “Next time.” 

And then, without further preparation, he called Riri into the room and asked if she could accompany Osamu in his stead. 

When she was out of ear’s reach, Osamu pulled Suna aside, and said, “I don’t have to go. She doesn’t have to come with me.” 

With a gentle sigh in his gaze and a pleasant warmth in his caress, Suna said, “I want you to go though.” He pressed a kiss to Osamu’s hand. “For me?”

\--

Osamu grunts as he shifts the weight on his back. “I don’t understand why ya ran all that way only to fall flat on yer face in front of Kronk.”

“Oh, so you know Kronk, but you don’t know Mushu? Make up your mind. Are you old or not?” Riri says, voice muffled into Osamu’s back. 

After chasing Riri through the hellscapes of Disneyworld, they decided to call it an early night and skip the fireworks. Neither of them wanted to stick around each other for much longer anyway, discounting the fact that Riri was literally stuck onto Osamu’s back in a piggyback carry right now.

“At least ya had on tights, I guess. Are yer knees bloody?” Osamu asks. 

Riri scoffs. “Would you like to check? Careful, you might lose your lunch there. I’m afraid you have a  _ weak stomach _ .” 

“I don’t though,” Osamu mutters. 

“I know. You’re not a good liar, you know?”

He doesn’t respond. 

Riri complains. “Gosh, and this outfit was new, too. Do you clean out blood stains with bleach or dish detergent?”

“How about ya try soaking it in water first,” Osamu offers unhelpfully. 

Riri punches his back feebly, and she nearly goes teetering off until he catches his balance. “You’re rude! Are you rude to Rin-nii, too?”

Whether he is or not, he doubts Riri will appreciate either answer, being the bro-con that she is. 

She bemoans the loss of her Sunday. 

Irked, Osamu asks, “Then why’d ya come in the first place? It would have made it a lot easier for me if ya just said no. I could have been taking care of Rin right now instead of carrying ya like an overgrown rice sack, ya big baby.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she says heatedly. “I know what you and Rin-nii call each other behind closed doors, and hearing you call me that is just  _ gross _ .” 

“Hey, now.”

Then, softer, she buries her face into the small of Osamu’s back and says, “You saw how Rin-nii was. Was I supposed to shoot him down when he looked that happy? Tell me, Mukkun. Could you?”

Osamu slows his stride, walking a gentler pace. 

The answer is no. Of course not. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here, on a Sunday, at Disneyworld (or in his case,  _ exiting _ Disneyworld and its clutches), unwillingly on a date with his boyfriend’s  _ sister _ , who absolutely hates him for reasons that are now much clearer. 

Gruffly, he says, “Hey.” 

“What,” she blanches. 

“Was Rin really that bad?” He’s scared to know. But he’s even more terrified to not know. 

Suna always looked so put together on screen, whenever he was playing volleyball against Atsumu or whenever he was doing team interviews with reporters. He looked fine—great, even. He has a hard time believing that Suna let go of himself as much as Riri tells him. 

Eventually, they make it to the station where hordes of other people are waiting for the first train out of the park. 

Riri digs her nails into his back, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s welcome, actually. 

“Some days were better than others,” she says, but it comes out weakly. “I’m sure you know what it feels like to go through an awful breakup. He loved you the entire time, you know? It doesn’t just flush out of your system like food poisoning.” 

Osamu groans. “Did ya have to say it like that?”

“It’s always food when it comes to Rin-nii. He’d probably say the same.” 

He picked that up from Osamu, he wants to say. But he doesn’t. 

“I loved him too, ya know,” Osamu says, so quiet it’s like air—like an exhale. “Always have.”

Riri squeezes her arms around his neck. 

“If you make him sad again, I’ll come for you.” 

It’s a promise, cemented by the shakiness in her hands as they grip harder. 

“I know.” 

“I’m serious. I’ll pretend like you’re Atsumu-san, photoshop your hair yellow, and send all his fangirls toward you after releasing a racy scandal. You won’t survive.” 

He chuckles, genuine. “Ya know, if ya didn’t hate me, I think I could like you.” 

The train starts to roll in. He shifts Riri’s weight so she’s more comfortable. 

“I don’t hate you, Osamu-san,” she says, faintly. And it’s a struggle to hear her over the loud intercom. “I just want you to make Rin-nii happy.” 

\--

Riri is groggy on his back by the time they make it to Suna’s home. They take off their shoes in the hallway, and Osamu’s assessing the damage to Riri’s knees when Suna stumbles to the front, pjs wrinkled and hair askew. His eyes grow wide when he sees the blood all over Riri’s legs. 

“Shit. Did you go skidding across sandpaper or something? That looks hideous.” 

She throws a sneaker at his face. 

Suna laughs, and he returns with bandaids, cotton balls, and antiseptic. 

“Did you guys have a good time at least?”

Osamu instantly freezes. “Well, uh—”

He’s shocked a second too late by the sting that flies across his face. The sound of the slap registers before the pain, but when it does, he stares, blinking dumbly at Riri. 

She’s got a blank look on her face as she picks up her discarded tights and thanks Suna for the emergency care package before retreating to her room. 

Osamu’s still gawking when Suna snickers. Osamu glares at him. 

“I take it your date went well then?”

“She hates me!” Osamu cries. 

Blithely, Suna wraps his arms around Osamu, and they cuddle right there on the floor. 

“That’s okay,” he says, all too cheerfully. He breathes in the scent of Osamu’s clothes, like he’s sick with withdrawal after a full day without him. 

“ _ No _ ,  _ it’s not _ .” 

“It is, though,” Suna says. He leans back and presses a kiss to Osamu’s forehead since a kiss to his lips risks spreading his cold. “Because _ I _ love you. Is that not enough?”

And Osamu melts. 

He loves him. He loves him dumb enough to push him away, and he loves him fierce enough to come back. He loves him enough that no amount of him in this lifetime will ever be enough. 

“Hey,” Osamu says, burying his face in the crook of Suna’s neck. 

“What is it?” Suna croons, gently patting his back. 

“Ya know I love you.”

“God, I hope so, or else this is awkward.” 

Osamu clings on tighter. “I’m sorry I left ya behind all those years ago. And ya can hit me, yell at me, slap me like yer sister did, but I’m not leaving. So please say yes. Say you’ll put up with me.”

Leaning back, Suna cups Osamu’s cheeks. “Hey,” he murmurs softly. “I won’t do any of that.”

“But—”

“ _ And _ I’ll say yes,” he smiles, and it’s painfully beautiful. “I waited for you all this time, didn’t I? It’d be a waste if I let you go now.” 

“Rin…” 

And he tucks himself into the space Suna holds open for him. 

“Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Suna soothes. 

“I love ya.”

“I do, too.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“What for?”

Because Suna’s not looking for an apology. That’s not what he waited five years for. That’s not why they’re on the floor in a crumpled mess as Osamu tries to sort himself out.

So Osamu leans back and shudders out a breath. Suna looks at him curiously. 

“ _Thank_ _you_ ,” he says.

For waiting, for staying. For loving Osamu enough to give him a second chance. And really, Osamu couldn’t be more grateful to have him in his life. Couldn’t be more  _ lucky _ to have Suna in his life. 

Smiling, Suna has never looked better. He presses his forehead against Osamu’s and says, “Yeah. Me too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
